Lisbeth Ivies

As an avid reader that has also been a long-time patron of the library, I jumped at the chance to read this title for the 2023 reading challenge Around the Year in 52 Books. While the true prompt was a book where books are important, I think anyone would say that a book entirely arguing that libraries are important works under the same umbrella. At least I hope so anyway!

The sheer amount of information contained in The Library Book overwhelmed me a bit at first. Starting with the narrower scope of a raging fire in the Los Angeles central library in 1986, the reader is soon taken on a journey that spans the entire history of the Los Angeles library system. That focus continues, at least geographically for the most part, but there are some segues toward libraries in general and the author's personal life. A broad lense look so to speak, it became both a blessing and a curse.

When I wasn't at school, home, or sports, I was usually at the library growing up. Even now, there are days I go just to spend the time despite being able to check out virtually everything online without having to physically go there. Given that long history and connection, I was surprised by just how many new things I learned from this book. And from so many various perspectives too. The chronological history of the head librarians of Los Angeles provided some humor as well as made connections to some of the events of those times. Another way the author argues the case that libraries can be an important part of the social structures of a community.

I do appreciate the scope of what is being attempted here, and I do find the information valuable despite the enormous net being used. The issue then becomes less about just how much is on offer, but in just how it's being offered. The Library Book, at least to me, felt more like three possibly even four separate books all interwoven together. There is the through-line of the Los Angeles library fire and the aftermath, including an arson investigation. There is the timeline and succession of the colorful people who led the Los Angeles system. Layered on top of that, the author's personal connection to libraries, research and interviews that helped create this book, and a case study for why libraries are important round out the remaining page count.

Each does have something to add to the story, some more so than others, a lot of the impact feels lost because everything gets scattered around. We jump forward, we jump back. One of those ‘inner books' might have two, three, four chapters in a row then not be picked up again until 50 pages later. Perhaps it's just personal preference, but the skips made this less enjoyable a read than it otherwise could have been.

While I admit that I dove into this novel fully expecting to enjoy myself because it centers around one of my favorite tropes, I didn't expect to be near blindsided by just how fun it actually was. The humor is phenomenal, and the alternating points of view every chapter have such strong voices that I truly felt like I was sitting in two different people's heads.

If you are looking for a new take on an old premise, look no further. Easy to read, and with a healthy amount of mystery twined with the romance, I frankly devoured the book in about 2 days.

While The Reel Sisters by Michelle Cummings could be described as that one book about a bunch of women who enjoy getting together and fly fishing, it is so much more than that. Written from the perspective of each of the five “Reel Sisters,” there is definitely fishing, but there is also a lot of story in between as well. The characters of Sophie, Rose, Amanda, Veronica, and Melody share a unique bond within the novel that transcends just a love for the same sport.

Popular media so often portrays women as unable to get along because of “catfighting.” It was extremely refreshing to read about women from vastly different backgrounds who actually get along. Even when the women do argue within the book, the characters never lose sight of the value that their relationships with one another holds. The characters in The Reel Sisters felt so real that I did research to make sure that the novel was actually fictional. The stories of these women and the relationship between them felt so tangible that I became invested in their lives as a reader. Be prepared to laugh, cry, and possibly even cry from laughing with these women.

I genuinely enjoyed reading this book from the very first pages as we are introduced through the perspective of Sophie. The humor, often irreverent, infusing that first chapter definitely had me interested in reading further. I also never realized how many analogies one could make between the art of fishing and the art of succeeding at life until I read this book.

However, a few issues did prevent me from giving this novel the highest possible rating. Sophie, the character that the reader is first introduced to, does not stay entirely consistent from beginning to end. The pacing of the story is also a bit sporadic. It hops back and forth in time and moves incredibly fast at the end compared to the rest of the novel. In addition, the number of errors I found exceeded 300. This largely consisted of missing commas along with missing words, misspellings, and subject-verb disagreements.

Because The Reel Sisters was such a joy to read, I gave the novel a rating of 4 out of 5 stars despite the errors and pacing issues. I do not recommend this novel to people who do not want to read anything with a healthy amount of descriptions of fishing or a plot based on the strong bonds between female friends. If you do enjoy strong female characters and are looking for a slice-of-life story with a huge helping of humor, I will borrow the words of the author and say: “what are you wading for!”

Math teachers and mob bosses might seem like strange bedfellows, but somehow it just really works in A Love Most Fatal. The common tropes of mafia fiction—protector/protectee relationship, financial imbalance, family bonds, betrayal, criminal behavior but with morals—all factor in heavily. The flip of the mob boss being female, and particularly one as dynamic as this novel's Vanessa, turns the possibly too comfortable familiarities into something entirely new. Having sisters at the head of the organization, and just as multi-dimensional, helped shape this into one of my favorite romantic reads of the year.

The author strikes a rarely seen balance between the threads that make up A Love Most Fatal. A charming romance doesn't overshadow the fact this is a mafia story. Nothing is done just for shock value, and any twists feel earned without being too overt. The family dynamics and the characters upholding them feel realistic, lived in, and competent within their roles. I don't think there was a single character I disliked that I wasn't supposed to. Even then, the more villanous stay layered.

Errors are very few and far between, and other than a small bit of confusion regarding two goons early on in the novel, A Love Most Fatal is practically flawless. This novel might have been a debut for the author, but it doesn't read like one at all. I might just be a little biased toward the story as a math teacher myself, and I don't often get to see us as romantic leads at all, let alone stories like this. However, I do believe A Love Most Fatal has a much broader appeal than to just math teachers. Any romance readers who appreciate powerful women falling in love with less traditional but still strong men (toxic does not mean strong!) and a little bit of violence between the steamier scenes should enjoy. I'm already planning to read the sequel hopefully coming sooner rather than later.

I will start this by saying I wish I could give this book two different ratings. The first part of the novel was an easy 2 possibly verging on 1 for me in some places. Everything after is a 4, bordering on 5 (that ending!). If you are the type that can plod steadily along on a not very straight road to get their reward, I promise a very juicy carrot at the end of it.

An older half-sibling makes a decision while deployed overseas that has severe ramifications for the rest of his family, with a particular focus on his younger brother and sister. As the alternating point-of-view characters chapter by chapter until the epilogue, everything that happens in the story filters through their perspectives. This created a few huge problems for me as a reader.

It's presented like the siblings' older selves are recounting things. That really isn't a thread that's kept up throughout and when we are introduced to the siblings as those older selves later...they don't really match up all that much either. The level of sarcasm and jadedness at even the younger age also feels a little out of place. There are some amazing lines, but when it's heaped on again and again, the feeling becomes redundant.

The main issue I took with the first part though is just how much the same the two points of view are. The voices, tone, perspective of the world of the two siblings felt almost homogenous despite the obvious differences of gender and age. I often had to go back to the chapter header to make sure I was understanding which sibling I was reading. After the age up into adulthood, they finally started feeling like truly separate voices.

What this novel really does have going for it though is that despite a rough beginning, I did feel paid off for reading this in the end. Despite the question in the title, I definitely wasn't still asking why at the end but where. Where can I find my own emotional support Scotsman?